In fact, I’m sure my guilty student self-will arise any moment now and say something like, “you could pre-read for your other two classes too.”

But the fact is.

I need a break.

And sometimes that is just as important to acknowledge as it is to budget time to do the homework.

It’s been, well, stressful isn’t the right word exactly, but challenging at work this week.

The dad has been home sick every day.

EVERY DAY.

The whole family has gotten sick, and I as well, although not to the extent or severity of the baby or the papa.

For this I am so lucky.

Very happy.

Very grateful.

I caught it last week Thursday, tried to pretend I didn’t have it, had it land pretty solid Friday, spiked a fever while at my office seeing clients on Saturday.

Fortunate for me I had some clients cancel and no-show and I was able to chill out in my office after seeing two clients.

That actually helped me a lot in my advancement through my homework this week.

I wrote a paper and did a bunch of reading.

I wrote another paper on Sunday.

And then have read and posted discussions all week.

I’m just about past the point of feeling awkward with the dad around.

But, yes challenging.

I find I do as much work as I possibly can, but you know, I’m extremely efficient and Fridays the family traditionally orders in food, so I have no food prep or dinner planning to do.

The house is spotless.

I can’t access laundry since it’s next to the sleeping baby.

So I’ve done my homework and then realized, good lord, I still have another half hour or so of not having anything to do.

Somehow sitting on the couch trolling Instagram seems like a bad idea.

I figured if I was writing, it would at least look like I’m working on something.

Dad doesn’t need to know I’m writing my blog.

Plus.

Since I’m flying a red-eye tonight I am going to try to sleep on the plane rather than do homework.

Maybe, ooh, I could even watch a movie.

Ah.

That would be nice.

I do know that I will be happy to hit DC running, my friend will pick me up at the airport, drive me into town and then we’re going to do breakfast, coffee, and doing that infamous deal at a clubhouse near DuPont Circle.

After that I am checking into an Air BnB in Georgetown.

That I was happily given access to for early check in.

Super grateful for that.

Originally the check in was listed for 3p.m.

But I asked if it was possible to get in early and I got a sweet affirmative response last night.

So.

Napping.

And.

Napping in front of a working fireplace.

Yes.

I won’t nap too long, there’s only so much time I get with my friend.

I think we might do a fancy pants dinner out somewhere that evening and then Sunday really just hang out and walk around Georgetown, hit some cafes, grab lunch somewhere, maybe do some shopping.

You know, girl stuff.

And I fly back super early on Monday.

So early that I actually will have most of Monday available to me for life stuff that needs to be done.

I have to drop my car off for some maintenance and I’m hoping to get all my laundry done.

So.

Here’s to there only being two and a half hours left of my work day, one client, and a quick drive home to pick up my suitcase and travel bag.

I’m already packed.

All I have to do is remembered to bring my power cords for my computer and my phone.

Tossed away, given away, old grumpy clothes that weren’t pretty or bright, that were already tattered.

By the time I was in high school though, I was buying my own clothes.

Mom’s rules.

She paid for school supplies.

And as soon as I started working I paid for my school clothes.

I think I got the raw end of the deal in hindsight, but you know, whatever.

I was frivolous with my first real paycheck.

I bought a brand new leather jacket with a removable rabbit fur collar.

God damn I loved that jacket.

Loved it to tattered bits.

It was my own version of the Velveteen Rabbit.

I spent my entire summer earnings on that jacket and I did not give any of the fucks.

It was mine.

And it was fucking glorious.

Top Gun had come out the that year and it reminded me of the leather bomber that Kelly Mcgillis wore in the movie.

That was probably the last time I wore a hand me down.

At least for a while.

Now.

Well, fuck, we just call it a clothing swap and throw all our stuff in a pile and go hog wild and wow, this will work great at Burning Man!

I have gotten some sweet pieces from clothing swaps.

And.

Today I got a bunch of clothes from my boss.

It’s funny, I don’t always have a real good feel of my size, I think I’m bigger than I am and then I obsess about how I look and who the hell wants that?

I try to stay off the scale.

And I have felt that I put on a little weight over the last few months.

And I did.

Like two pounds.

OH NO!

I laughed my ass off when I weighed myself, not something I do very often, it’s not necessary for me, I can get all wrapped up in the stupid number and then be wrapped up in the idea that I’m not enough, and well, that shit is shit.

I’m a beautiful woman.

I’m not stupid.

But.

Often times I just don’t see it.

Oh, I see it, but I don’t act it.

I remember an ex boyfriend years ago looking at me from across the kitchen table at his house.

“What?” I asked him, “what are you staring at?”

“You really have no idea how beautiful you are do you?” He asked.

I blushed.

He got up from the table, straddled my lap and smashed me with his mouth.

God.

He was a good kisser.

We could make out for hours.

I miss make out.

It’s been a while since I have been properly kissed.

Anyway.

I digress.

I was two sizes larger than I am now.

But I was perfect and beautiful and he couldn’t keep his hands off me.

Note to self.

You are exactly the way you are supposed to be, the body is exactly how God wants it, relax.

So.

My boss has money.

Obviously.

And nice clothes.

And good taste.

Granted.

Not my taste.

And we’re not the same size, but we’re not that far off either.

She’s maybe two sizes smaller.

So.

Her jeans.

Not a fit.

But I took them anyway.

“Take them, try them on, give them away, sell them, they’re yours,” she said and dumped a huge pile of clothes on the table.

Fuck yes.

And she was totally correct.

A lot of them are not my style.

The jeans are so not a go.

She’s shorter than me too.

But.

They’re Vince Camuto.

I can sell that shit.

I also scored a sweater that surprised me, I wasn’t expecting to like it, but I was thinking, hey lady, you’re going to Wisconsin for Christmas time, a sweater might be a nice thing to have.

I mean I have two.

But I’m there a week and it gets cold and I’m going to want more than a couple.

So I tried it on, also a Vince Camuto.

And it fits!

And it’s cute on me.

Score.

I also scored three super cute long skirts that I thought, yes, these too, I will wear them in Wisconsin.

Skirts in winter?

Fuck yes.

Layered over wool tights or fleece lined tights, which I do in fact own quite a few pair of, paired with my black engineer boots and some layered thermals and a sweater.

“You are beautiful,” he said to me standing in the check out line, the express line, fifteen items or less, people.

I have actually been told to get out of the line once by a clerk who clocked how many items were in my basket.

Yeah buddy.

“And so tall, tall and beautiful,” he smiled, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, touch too old, nice enough, but I’ve got somewhere to be and I just want to pay for my groceries so I can get back home and do al the stuff that needs to be done so that I can write my paper for Human Development class.

I ain’t got time to flirt.

“Thank you,” I said and pulled my wallet from my messenger bag.

“I bet you do not get told that enough, that you are beautiful, you really are, and that lip gloss, my, I’m just blown away.”

I smiled again, thanked him, and started packing my bag.

He wasn’t unattractive, but I was not feeling any attraction.

Possibly as I was also feeling the time crunch to get back to my house, I was expecting a lady to be dropping by to do some reading with me and I had laundry going, and I wanted to finish up my errands before she arrived.

“May I have just a few minutes of your time once you finish up,” he asked.

At least he was polite.

I appreciate that.

“I have somewhere I need to be,” I said.

“Just a moment, really, just a bare minute,” he smiled, trying harder, “I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“No, thank you, I appreciate the compliments, but I really do have to go,” I said, paid, grabbed my bag and walked out the door, “have a nice day.”

He caught up to me and asked me out to lunch, coffee, anything.

I said no, but you know, it was nice to be asked and maybe if I wasn’t so busy and maybe if he hadn’t dropped the I live across the Bay bomb, location, location, location, it is everything, I might have considered.

It was a first though.

I have never been asked out in a super market before.

I do like that I am approachable.

I want to be approachable.

I want to date.

Not that I have the time for it.

But it’s a nice thought to have.

Dressing up.

Going out.

Being kissed in the fog.

My it was foggy tonight.

I was pretty drenched by the time I got back from my evenings adventure, doing the deal and stopping by a friend’s house in the neighborhood to hang out for a minute.

In fact.

It was pretty much starting to rain and I can hear the droplets falling outside my door.

I actually almost started working on my spending plan for November, make sure I crunch all the numbers and get the scooter situation all worked out.

I wasn’t procrastinating, but I was getting damn skippy close.

I met my ladybug for an hour, I did some quick shopping in the neighborhood, picked up my mom’s birthday present, must to send tomorrow to make sure it gets to her, did my cooking, and ate a lovely lunch, looked over my notes and reader and text-book and took a big deep breath.

Then, yes, Mildred, I prayed.

It so helps.

Cleared my head.

Got me centered.

I sat down and I wrote.

And before you know it, 7 pages, 3,112 words.

BOOM.

I edited it, spell checked it, tidied it up a bit, and sent it out.

Three out of the five reflection papers for the class are now done.

I will have to do two more reflection papers and a final project for the class.

In the next six weeks.

Plus all the reading, thank you.

I have a gigantic paper due on November 17th for my T-Group class.

As well as a transcription I have to do by November 7th for Therapeutic Communication.

I don’t know what I’m doing for Psychoanalytics except trying to keep up with the reading.

After I finished my Human Development paper I read an article in the Psychoanalytical reader just to get my mind going in that direction.

Sweet, tender, little darling blog.

You are fast becoming a place where I organize my thoughts about what I have to do for school.

When was the last time I wrote about sex?

Or relationships?

Or stuff other than reading, writing, and more writing.

I should not beat myself up, I did have some fun this weekend, hanging out with my friend, going to look at scooters, in fact, I am transferring the money tomorrow from my savings account to my checking account and I’m calling my former scooter insurance guy at State Farm and getting that put together.

I am ready.

I even looked at star decals today.

Yeah.

I know.

But come on.

I got to have some stars on my ride.

And if I can.

Glitter too.

Just a little.

Heh.

And I have written about poetry and that has still been an amazing little experience that I will go back to every once and awhile and stroke it softly, like a murder face cat rolling around on the carpet, all purrs and sass, enjoying the feeling of awe still that I was given such a gift for my writing.

That the writing is the gift too.

That I have such abundance.

My clean little home, my stacks of books to read, my experiences, all that I have, all that I have to pass along.

Mostly soothing and easy for me to palate since my brain has been on fire with my Human Development paper and final project proposal.

I sent them both off tonight.

Minutes ago in fact.

Well.

The reflection paper, the second of five that the class requires (ok, ok, that I require, the class only requires four, I can opt out of one, but since I only got a B on the first paper–I got docked for formatting issues–who the hell asks a student to write in 1.5 paragraphs instead of 2.0–I will be writing all five. I can get extra credit for writing the fifth which will bring my grade up to where I want it) I sent off about 45 minutes ago.

It took me a little longer to write then I thought it would.

But.

I got it done in under three hours.

My brain hurts though.

My ass too.

From sitting in a hard chair for hours.

I also sat in this chair to do my morning pages and to meet with two different ladies back to back before I got started on the paper.

Plus, I sat a while organizing my notes and notebooks and my gigantic ass text-book and the reader and well, my tush is half asleep.

Hopefully this blog will be quick and I will get my butt out of this chair soon.

Ah.

Getting old.

Thanks for the reminder body.

I was actually surprised to find myself finishing up the proposal for the final project tonight.

I was going to put it off until tomorrow night.

But.

I did not want to sit down to a cold proposal tomorrow night, I figure I may be too tired, I’m going into work early and both the boys have the day off from school for the holiday, so I’ll have my hands full.

And.

I am meeting my person after work to do some reading and do the deal.

So.

I started making some notes and gathering my information and looking about the internet and I ended up writing out my proposal and sending it off as well.

Today’s reflection paper was on issues in human development–nach, that’s the title of the course–around racism, micro-aggression in families, sexual fluidity, same-sex parenting, parenting styles, and effects of violence and media on children.

Yeah.

Like that.

Except it was seven pages (at 1.5 fucking paragraph line spacing, so it felt like ten pages) and 2,953 words.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Now I go vomit in my bathroom.

My proposal for my final project presentation is on using sign language with babies to help parents communicate before verbal skills have developed. It will be mainly a theoretical research project, but there will be color from my own personal experience, plus a video on signing, and a hand out with 20 common signs, some of which I plan on teaching the class.

I am still rather shocked that I got the proposal done and sent off.

Relieved too.

I need to focus on my other classes a little bit.

And.

Start the reading for the next weekend of classes.

Ugh.

The Human Development class has three chapters of reading in the text-book and six articles in the reader.

I don’t know what I need to read for my other classes at all.

I don’t know when the papers are due either.

Although I have a vague inkling that I must have my Dubitzky paper on Freud before the next weekend of classes and my Therapeutic Communication class always has a paper due right before class too.

That’s two papers.

Plus the paper for my T-Group.

That one isn’t due until November 17th, but there is a lot.

A LOT.

Of reading I have to do for it.

Ah.

Finding balance.

Oh!

Excellent.

I just got a response back from my Human Development professor.

She received my second reflection paper.

The professor also has a policy that the student is responsible for making sure she, the professor, gets the paper. If I don’t hear back within 24 hours or so of sending out the paper I need to check in with her to ascertain whether or not she has gotten it.

I suppose this negates the possibility of that old saw.

What do you mean you didn’t get my paper?

I sent it!

Computers!

I feel like I do a little too much housekeeping for this particular class and too much grunt work.

But.

So it goes.

The price of admission.

OH!

Hey!

This is nice, check it out.

How delightful! I am looking forward to your presentation Carmen. Go for it!

I just received another e-mail from the professor.

She likes my project proposal!

Sweet.

I don’t have to think about it too much more.

I will have to make a trip to the library, in fact, I may just buy the book online, the one by Dr. Joseph Garcia, called Toddler Talk, if I can find a cheap copy of it on Amazon and of course, do the presentation, but I have some space to work on it and I figure that I will be doing a bit of that work after this next weekend of classes, which is not until the 23rd of the month.

I have twelve days to get done another two papers and read another load of words.

And life.

There’s always that basic maintaining that has to be taken care of.

Self-care.

I was good to myself today.

I slept in.

Not a lot, but I didn’t use an alarm, probably the only day this week that I didn’t, and I bought myself flowers–a sort of incentive to get my paper writing done. I also did some grocery shopping and I cooked food for the day and for the week.

Dinner and lunch was brown rice with tarragon chicken and mushrooms.

Food for the work week is homemade “fried” rice with turkey bacon, chicken, mushrooms, peas, carrots, and sweet corn.

I also finally caught up on my spending plan and wrote out my expenditures for September and made a plan for October.

I knew I was procrastinating on writing the paper when I started playing catch up with my spending plan.

I mean, hello.

I would rather work on a spending budget for the month then write this paper.

But.

It’s done too, October, and where all my money is allotted.

Clothing allowance excepting.

I spent that all yesterday.

Heh.

Life it moves a pace.

Oh!

And I wrote another sonnet.

That’s eight done.

I should have the full ten by Tuesday after which point I will take the roughs from my notebook and put them into my laptop and edit them and send off the bunch to my collaborator.